


The Little Guard dog | Creepypasta x Proxy!reader |

by Btchpudding357



Category: Creepypasta - Fandom
Genre: Bad Romance - Freeform, Dark, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Psychic Violence, Psychological Horror, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Thriller, Yandere, Yandere Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:15:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26640529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Btchpudding357/pseuds/Btchpudding357
Summary: The security of the estate and its inhabitants rely on one of the most formidable individuals of Slender Manor, The Guard Dog. No bark and all bite...
Relationships: Creepypasta/Reader, Eyeless Jack/Reader, Eyeless Jack/Underage!Proxy!Reader
Comments: 6
Kudos: 106





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is Btchpudding! My goal for this story is to capture the darker aspects of Creepypasta and their world. You may also notice hints from the Disney movie "Mulan" theme as you read, in regard to the reader hiding her real gender from others. A female proxy living in a house full of rapists, murderers, and psychopaths and getting along with everyone is not realistic. Therefore I am trying to write the reader as someone that has to rely on combative weapon skills, their witts, and "sheer fucking will" to survive. There is romance, though it is not "lovey-dovey" by any means. Also, I am writing Eyeless jack with three tongues and he is blind. However, his other senses, such as touch, smell, taste, hearing, are extremely heightened. I will do my best to describe that with sensual details.

Snap! A careless step snapped a twig under the man's shoe. He froze, lungs burning as each labored breath was frantically inhaled. The sharp sound of the fracture resonated, alerting the entire forest of his location and someone else. Tears formed as he became painfully aware any more reckless movements will spell his demise if it hasn't already. His dilated pupils darted from one dark shadow to another. Searching for a sliver of hope or civilization to escape into. The runaway's panic-stricken lungs labored and long legs begged rest from the constant evasions. His bruised fingers harden their grip on the swiss knife, attempting to find some reassurance with having a weapon at hand. It was apparent he was afraid. 

Thwack! An unknown force threw his balance off causing him to fall. Every nerve ending in his body discharged signals of horrific agony. Just as it came it went, all feeling disappeared from his weak limbs. He timbered down and his physical strife was made worse when his face abruptly kissed the dirt floor. 

The man clenched his jaw to stifle a cry of distress from escaping. His swollen brows pinched together, forming deep creases on his forehead. The foundation of dead leaves on the forest floor didn't aid in cushioning the collapse. He shut his eyelids tightly to avoid unwanted debris from stabbing his eyes. Blood began to trickle from his broken nostril like a leaky faucet. The warm liquid drained down his aching throat, forcing him to taste an unsavory mixture of iron and earth.

The wounded man spat dirt and bits of foliage from his teeth. A combination of pain and disgust crossed his features. He begrudgingly peeked out of one eye, noticing his knife was lost from his clutches, "No! Damn it!" He spat, scanning for the missing weapon. The reflective surface of the blade quickly caught his eye just a few feet ahead. He stretches out a trembling hand ultimately meeting with painful resistance before dropping limply. His brain frantically sent out signals throughout his body, nothing responded. Not a flinch or twitch from his fingers or toes, every muscle, ligament, and bone turned gravely still. The man's heart, which was so loud it became deafening, gradually slowed down to a deathly pace. 

Terrified but curious to know the cause of his fall, the man sheepishly glances over his shoulder greeting the rather sizable serrated knife planted firmly in his back, " AH... AH! Oh fuck, oh shit!" He cursed under his breath, shielding his eyes from the ghastly sight. He debated yanking the damn thing out, but it could potentially cause more problems than solve.

Gathering whatever energy left, the man gradually arched his arm over his shoulders until his fingertips gingerly grazed the wooden hilt. Confusion formed on his face as he attempted to grab hold, noticing something coiled around it. A wire, he thought perplexed by the reasoning behind it. He pinched the coarse metal string with his index and thumb before giving it a light tug, "What the hell?!" His eyes widened, trailing the fine line that led back from which he ran. 

Discernible footfalls on dry leaves drew closer to him as did the stark realization. Lunging a shaky hand forward, he attempted to claw his broken body further. A painful shiver charged up through his spine as he failed to find purchase from dead foliage and cold dirt. He ceased further attempts on escaping, settling on planting his face against the cool ground surface. "shit." The crippled man seethed under his breath. The tiniest comfort granted to him from this moment of complete defeat was the warm tears coating his cheeks. He strained his neck and sight back so to watch in horror as a covert figure emerged from the woodland's umbra. The man squinted his eyes attempting to shed light on his captor's appearance. A pair of bulbous f/c goggles of a gas mask catches his attention. The stranger was much shorter in stature than he expected. Their legs were cladded in army pants twice their size and a dark heavy coat with matching hood pulled over the head. Various pieces of Kevlar fitted the stranger's slender limbs. The man's wide eyes traced the metal cord, which bounded the hilt of the knife disabling him from moving, and also delicately coiled around the stranger's gloved fingers.

His blood curdled when he also spotted the sniper rifle strapped to their back and numerous dried splotches of claret staining their attire. A metallic stench of death wafted into his nostrils, causing his nose to wrinkle in nervousness. He expected them to advance and claim their prize, but they didn't move an inch from when they first emerged. Instead, the stranger appeared to be waiting patiently for someone or something. The man hasn't the foggiest idea but knows it doesn't bode well for him, especially if those three catch up to him. " Let me go plea-." his voice choked at the end seeing his captor gingerly lift a single index finger to where their lips would be if not for the mask. It was a simple response. The kind of gesture one would expect a librarian would mimic to a noisy child. It induced a gravitating silence, something so compelling that it made everything around them to be just as quiet, except for the hasty footfalls nearing their location. Seconds later, the aforementioned trio tore through the foliage, discovering their victim and "ally" in wait. 

"Found you, shithead!" the first masked male barked at the wounded man, obviously pissed beyond belief. His disheveled tan jacket covered in dirt and grime from their last encounter. He gripped the crowbar tightly as he stomped towards his prey threateningly, "kck-c-calm your tits mmm-Masky. T-the guy ii-isn't going anywhere." The other goggle-wearing individual, Toby, stuttered, chest heaving through his striped hoodie from the chase. His lanky arms prompt on his knees for support.

Masky, as the name applied, sported a mask with womanly features and the temper of a bull. He was young and built like a football player with his broad shoulders and muscular legs, " I don't want to hear your bitch-ass stuttering Rogers!" Masky turned his rage towards the Toby, before reverting it to the wounded man in front of him. Towering over him with the crowbar raised high like an executioner's blade, " I'm gonna enjoy this." A crazed smile formed under his porcelain facade. Click, and clank of jerking joints emanated from the orange-goggled male. His slender gloved fingers straighten then curled into his palm repeatedly as if clawing or grasping the air at his sides. His fingertips were teasing against the dangerous hatchets dangling from his belt loops. They retreat just before they purchase hold of the splintered hilts. A part of Toby so desperately wants to see his axes dunked in his teammate's blood just for that remark, but another part knows better than to challenge Masky, especially in front of the "other". The conflict wouldn't end well... for anybody. 

"WAIT! No, no plea-" Thwack! The first strike knocked him out cold. Thwack! Another blow tore flesh and hair from the scalp, spots of crimson splattered across his mask. Thwack! Crack! The fatal swing caved his victim's skull. Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! He is long dead by now, but that didn't stop Masky's furious barrage of iron. None of the others turned away from the horror show. The surrounding foliage became painted thick in scarlet. Crazed chuckles animated from the masked berserk, " Enough Masky! You are acting childish." A deep tone heard but veiled by a voice-altering device, it was the third musketeer who spoke up, Hoodie. His yellow hood concealed most of his appearance, along with the black cloth covering his face; stitched with a long red frown and dotted eyes. He crossed his burly arms and extended a firm chest, showing distaste for his partner's senseless act. 

Masky paused for a moment before lowering the crowbar to his side, "Pussy." He mocked under his breath, barely loud enough for his comrade to hear. With a sharp tug, the serrated blade effortlessly slipped out the bloodied folds of flesh and reeled in by the silent company, " Look." Hoodie extended a single arm with his pointer finger commanding Masky's attention to their victim, more specifically, to the blade's entry. Upon first inspection, it appears to be nothing more than a flesh wound. It wasn't until the dumbfounded proxy leaned over for closer examination that he noticed it. The blood failed to clot, even after his demise, and gushed like a broken water pipe. If left as is he would've died in minutes. 

"The guy was already knocking on death's door the moment the knife broke the skin. Expanding the effort was a waste of energy and idiotic."He lowered his arm confirming his point heard. Hoodie would never admit it, but he took great pleasure in stealing his partner's victory away. Like taking a toy from a spoiled child or eating the last cookie from the jar. Though ideally, he would've done the honors, and as one would expect, Toby felt the same. That didn't stop a gleeful snicker escaping his lips at the sight of Masky's anger tipping over the boiling point. 

With their knife sheathed, wire spun neatly and secured in one of many belt pouches, and other work to attend to, the fourth member turned to exit the scene," Hey! Where the hell do you think you're going, dog?!" the obnoxious male growled, taking some aggressive steps towards their ally, disregarding his boot dragging through the pile of head meat. The “dog” in question directed their hooded gaze over the shoulder to the angered Masky. Annoyed by his rude and idiotic remarks, the only response was a curt and silent leave, 

" HEY!! I'm fucking talking to you-!" Only a few steps are taken, a foot and a half at most, before stopping dead and chocking his own venomous words. There was no time to react before he found himself staring down the barrel, the aperture of bleak uncertainty. A half a second, maybe less, was all it took. In one swift, unwrinkled motion the guard dog drew their gun, tiny in comparison to the one secured on their back, and aimed squarely between his eyes. His feminine porcelain mask was pressed tautly against his face by the barrel. He remained stationary and as still as stone. He was completely dumbstruck by their response. Typically their interactions consisted of him berating the guard dog with a variety of obscenities and colorful word choices, while the "dog's" response was a blunt silence for exactly one minute before their soundless exit. This allowed Masky to vent, which tired him out eventually and avoid further confrontation for the rest of the evening. However, that is not what is going down. What galled him more was not the fact that a loaded weapon was squared at his face, but the fact that he allowed it. Masky didn't- no couldn't see it coming, despite him taking so much pride in his skill to read another person and their actions. There was no warning or discernible movement to foresee. A half a second, maybe less was all it took.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The security of the estate and its inhabitants rely on one of the most formidable individuals of Slender Manor, The Guard Dog. No bark and all bite...

Half a second, maybe less, was all it took. You didn't need any more time than that and won't have to use more than 5 lbs of pressure to pull the trigger. The average bullet travels at 2,500 miles per second. A mere centimeter of porcelain separated a bullet from his face. The odds of you missing or him dodging are slimmer than an anorexic worm. The notorious loud-mouth, hostile, and overall jackass proxy that is Masky, is now potentially and facing his end. The other two masked proxies stood on the sidelines watching the possible execution of their third partner and were just as helpless to do anything. Hoodie and Toby had their thoughts and expectations on the situation and how it will transpire.

From Hoodie's perspective, he had predicted this happening after all the shit-talk Masky shoveled on you over the past two years. Admittedly, he thought this day would have come a lot sooner, but he underestimated your monk-like endurance and shit-taking abilities. Ever since the two young men started this kind of work, the routine consisting of Masky, yelling obscenities, and being belligerent, then you, walking away and doing nothing occurred almost daily. Hoodie will never admit this, even to himself, but he feels sorry for the Guard dog. Considering all the tasks and chores you do for the master, the manor, and the security of the residents, including them, you already have more than enough to deal with. In conclusion, Hoodie knew this was bound to happen at some point and every time the routine occurred he rested his gloved hand on his gun holstered on his belt. He trained himself physically and mentally to quickly draw, aim, and if necessary, fire at the Guard Dog. Just like his partner, the hooded man was confident that he could predict and differentiate your deadly actions versus your routine response and even more that he could outdraw you. And just like his partner, Hoodie failed, what's more, his gun didn't even make it out of its holster. So there he is, gloved hand frozen to his hip and about to witness the likely probability that his partner and lifelong friend is going to die right in front of him. Hoodie is well aware that Masky is undoubtedly the biggest asshole, not counting the new guy moving in soon, but he is still his best friend and favored him not dying. At least not by your hands, ideally Hoodie would have the honors and the burden.  


Toby, on the other hand, had almost entirely different thoughts on the situation. He also foresaw you fend up with Masky's brash behavior and kill him at some point. Though he differed from the hooded man in the sense that not only did he expect this to happen, but also hoped it would. And unlike Hoodie, the orange goggled male did not prepare any countermeasures against the Guard Dog killing Masky. Not just because he thoroughly welcomes the sight of the masked male dead and rotting on the forest floor, but also he knew better that no amount of planning or training will allow him to stop you from turning the arrogant proxy into worm food if you desired. Toby has been a proxy for roughly a year, but it only took the first week for the ticking male to decide that he hated Masky. It took two weeks after for Toby to develop the intense urge to kill the masked male. However, since he is solely devoted to the master, respects the rules of the manor, and didn't want to die by your hands for breaking said rules, he never attempted to swing his axes in the proxy's direction. Instead, he projects his murderous rage on to any unfortunate souls that wander into the woods, if the Guard Dog hasn't gotten to them first. In conclusion, Toby was also familiar with the routine, and every time it occurred he silently prayed. He hoped that instead of your usual mature and silent exit, he could witness your true face and animalistic rage as you tear into Masky's jugular with your sharp canines. Toby has never seen your face under the gas mask, neither have any of the other killers in the manor. However, he undoubtedly had a very vivid imagination, and therefore, he believed, primarily from your title as Guard Dog, that you were an actual canine standing on its hind legs or a werewolf. Toby is wrong of course, but nobody else had any inclination as to what you were. To the residents of the Slender manor, You are perceived as something as supernatural as Slenderman himself. Most aren't even aware of your gender, much less your appearance.  


Back to the situation at hand, the notorious loud-mouth, hostile, and overall jackass proxy that is Masky, is now potentially and facing his end. Without a word, you removed the loaded Glock from his masked face. After saddling the weapon, you promptly left the scene and the shocked and perplexed trio to their own devices. Admittedly, this conclusion is anticlimactic but you received satisfaction knowing that instead of enduring the headache of the masked male's rant, you essentially stood up for yourself, kinda. The almost bag of worm food proxy exhaled a heavy breath he didn't realize his lungs were withholding. The realization of what transpired shook him to his core with absolute, unadulterated rage. So much so, that the male's jaw clenched so tightly that the others could hear the strain placed on his teeth. Like tunnel vision, his eyes were solely fixed on your figure gradually disappearing into the forest umbra and all he could see was red. If the proxy ever had a shred of reasonable thought before, he surely has lost it now. Masky breathed heavily into his inflated nostrils and shot out hot streams of air like a mad bull readying for a blind charge against the sword-wielding matador. Before he could take one step towards his probable demise, Hoodie's gloved hand placed itself flatly against his chest, stopping him in his tracks. "Don't" was the only word the hooded man uttered.   


You silently left the scene and trekked far enough that even if Masky was foolish enough to retaliate, he would have a difficult time hunting you down. You look up at the sky to no-longer see the moon and instead notice beading streams of sunlight barely peeking from the west. Curious to what time it is, your gloved fingers shimmied the long coat sleeve to reveal a small watch secured to your slender wrist employing a worn, leather make-shift strap. It was 7:08 am, 52-minutes before the residents' curfew for their nighttime activities. Whatever they entailed didn't matter to you as long they were present for the 11 am room check the master scheduled for this morning. You exhaled a long tired sigh knowing this routine, which occurred monthly, was not enjoyable for the most part. You could feel your energy being drained and a headache forming just by recalling previous inspections.  


The truth is unless it was in your jurisdiction and you had to confront and more often than not restrain them, outside of that, you don't have much contact with them. In truth, you purposely limit your interactions with the other residents as much as possible. Therefore, you don't 'hang' with them, or eat with them. You don't even exchange common niceties like waving or acknowledging their presence with a simple nod when crossing paths in the halls. If it so happens that you are walking down a hallway and another resident was walking from the opposite direction. Before they notice your silent company, you either change course or duck into a closet and wait for them to pass. In your most desperate times, you would even go as far as scaling the walls and hiding amidst the shadows and scaffolding in the tall ceilings like some attic monkey. Your sense of pride didn't factor in your more 'questionable' evasive maneuvers. The majority of the residents suffer from a plethora of mental deformities, resulting in them into serial killers, kidnappers, and rapists. You are naturally introverted and do not crave social interactions. Not only that, but most of the residents are not fond of you and are especially reluctant about your presence during the room checks and in general.  


After mentally preparing yourself and coaxing your headache to ease, you made the trek back to the Slender manor. By the time your gloved fingers were wrapped around the rusted handle of one of the grand oak double doors, your watch measured 8:15 am. It was a cumbersome time for you to return. You knew this well because at this time most of the residents will be cloistered in the foyer. With a loud and eerie creak of the door demanding refurbishment, you entered the grand foyer. Or it would be grand if any of the residents wiped their shoes before entering. Immediately you look down taking in the aftermath of the wave of returning residents. The foot traffic dusted the black marble floors in the dirt, grass, and the distinctive trail of muddy, scarlet boot prints. It will take a good part of your day to clean. After examining the mess you look up, taking a moment to the scan a few scornful looks directed towards your arrival. One of which originated from one of the manor's most unlikely residents, a little girl simply dubbed as Sally. Upon you entering she narrowed her rather large green eyes and pouted her tiny pink lips at you. She ceased the one-sided conversation she was having with Ben, who didn't look that much interested in whatever Sally was saying before you arrived. Instead of giving you a scornful look like the little girl, he merely drew his gaze away from whatever gaming device he was fixated on to your uninteresting figure. The elf's crimson pupils scanned you briefly before returning his attention to the device he deemed more deserving of. Another distasteful gaze was tucked to the other side of the grand foyer. Or you assume it was distasteful, but due to the emotionless blue mask that belonged to Eyeless Jack, you could not be certain. You could, however, feel the heavyweight of his graze on you, which curiously conjured a feeling of uneasiness. His absolute attention was something you were not used to and you didn't sense any animosity from him. It was different, and different made you uneasy. Saddled with a large and most likely full duffel bag slung over his broad shoulders, he broke his stare and descended a discrete and smaller stairway which led into the basement. The lower level was deemed as the manor's clinic where Jack resided and occasionally treated whatever ailed the residents.  


Cloistered at the bottom of one of the grand oak staircase were the three proxies you had a run-in earlier this morning. Hoodie leaned nonchalantly against the banister, his attention was primarily focused on his phone screen. Toby seated at the bottom, simply chuckling to himself as he gnawed on the fabric of his hoodie sleeve. Whatever was so amusing to him was beyond you, but you could probably guess it was related to the cold and unforgiving glare Masky was sending you. With his porcelain mask in one hand and a lit cigarette pressed firmly against his chapped lips, he drew in long drags allowing the smoke to fully perforate his lungs before exhaling a large cloud. The proxy seemed calmer, but for how long.   


Your e/c eyes wander from the crowded foyer, retracing a particular trail of scarlet and mud up the pair of grand dark oak staircases which both connected at the top. You notice it continues into the halls of the manor's second level, which is dedicated to residential housing and dorms. You know you will have to investigate later, but for now, you have to report to the master and initiate the dreaded room inspections. On either side of the foyer were separate halls each branching and connecting to different wings. The right-wing consisted of common shared spaces like the cooking facilities, dining hall, main library, the parlor room. The left differed in that almost no one venture into its twisting halls. The majority of the wing contained rooms housing dust, spiders, old shadows. However, the main reason that most residents stay clear is that the office of a certain entity is stationed there.  


With your destination in mind, you exited through the left corridor, passing Sally and Ben who re-engaged in their one-sided conversation. The little girl completely disregarded your passing while Ben took one last curious glance as you went by. There is no straightforward path to the master's quarters. The route is disorienting and confusing to those who are not accustomed to it and you can easily become lost. On your path, you cut through living spaces that are relatively unknown to the other residents and therefore unused. Overgrown spider webs and ghostly white sheets covering the furniture occupied these rooms. As you proceed the grew atmosphere grows heavier and the lighting becomes dimmer and fading after each twist and turn until you reach a singular hallway nearly consumed in darkness. Like a starless night, It is so dark that all corners and edges of the hall vanish and you can't help but feel that if you step into it you would fall into the void. At the very end of the dismal corridor, you can make out the grand double doors, similar in stature to the entrance, painted thickly in bright red. They guarded the entry to a very private room and a very private entity. It was only accessible by those who are permitted. So before you take one more step, you had to wait. You had to wait for him. You had to wait for him to sense you, which you knew very well he can. You had to wait for him to allow you to pass or you very much will fall. Your mind will fall and shatter, scattering until you are nothing. It does not seem plausible that just by stepping one foot into the hallway, or even if your shoe lightly grazes its shadowy bounds, your existence is in a sense is terminated. But a lot of things in this place don't make sense. You've seen it happen once and once was enough. You don't recall who it was, perhaps a resident. All you know is that once there were a man and the moment he stepped out of theoretical bounds, then there was nothing. It was so simple and yet so terrifying.  


Static rang through your senses until you heard one-word echo through your consciousness, "Proceed." It was a simple command and one you followed wholeheartedly. You did just that and took one step into the darkness, then another and another. As you traversed into the void, you kept your maximum focus primarily on the red doors, fearing that if your gaze happened to go anywhere else, you would fall. As if you were a trapeze artist balancing on a thin line separating your existence from the all-consuming twilight nothingness. You reached the door, gently extending and wrapping your gloved fingers around both handles. Again you waited, "Enter." another simple command. You pushed open the doors and stepped into the private sanctum of Slenderman.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The security of the estate and its inhabitants rely on one of the most formidable individuals of Slender Manor, The Guard Dog. No bark and all bite...

You reached the door, gently extending and wrapping your gloved fingers around both handles. Again you waited, "Enter. " another simple command. You pushed open the doors and stepped into the private sanctum of Slenderman. 

You felt immediate relief having your boots touch a solid surface when you fully stepped out from the twilight zone hallway. The master's abode can be described in one statement, nothing out of the ordinary. Aside from the supernatural entity himself, the wallpaper was the color of ox-blood, and lining the four walls were dozens of bookcases overflowing with papers, books, and old tomes, most of which were extracted from the manor's main library and never returned. Not that any of the residents were avid readers, to begin with. In the center was an unusually large desk for the abnormally tall being that currently resided behind said desk. The chair in the room was his own which fitted his stature perfectly. Centered on the wall behind him, are large, plainly visible, and bold writing containing all of the house rules and/or laws that every resident must follow painted directly onto the wall in inky black. The doors shut themselves shortly after you entered as they always did. Here you were in a very secluded room with the master of the manor, who was currently writing something down on multiple sheets of paper. His long ghoulishly pale fingers ever so gently rested the pen he held onto the desk, before directing his full faceless gaze to you. 

" Y/n, you are aware of what day it is." Slenderman simply stated, not asking a question. When he "speaks", his voice is deep and so low that you can feel each syllable reverberate inside your skull. You took a moment to situate your weight and balance on your feet to a more appropriate standing in his presence. He paused to also take a moment to fully straightened his spine. Executing a posture that only he and oak trees could maintain. Your jaw clenched in anticipation of what he was about to say, " Room inspections are due today. I have your list right here." You knew he was going to say that. Gathering all of your courage and thoughts you let out a heavy sigh. You bring you gloved fingers up and pushed your hood down, before disconnecting the straps that secured it. Gently you lift the hefty gas mask from your head. Freeing your h/c locks and allowing you to see the dimly lit room without the mask's tinted lens, which takes a few moments for your vision to adjust. You don't particularly like removing the mask, it makes you feel exposed. You look at your master then down at your boots. The silence is unbearable, and you already removed your mask to display some importance to what you wanted to say. You should have thought this through, formulate your words beforehand. Instead, you are just standing there face exposed, like how a dog exposes it's belly in submission, embarrassing.

"Is something troubling you, Little one?" You tensed up knowing that master loathed asking questions, especially when he could just delve into anyone's mind and prob for his answers, no matter how much they screamed. Except he couldn't, not this time, and not with you anyway. By some supernatural miracle, you're immune to his clairvoyance. You suspected this both angered and intrigued him to no end. His seemingly caring words and pet name failed to mask the impatient being's annoyance. You knew you had to say something quickly once you spotted the master's pale, spider-like talons folding into each other resting on top of the desk. He then leaned ever so slightly forward whilst tilting his head to the side, which caused an eerie creak in his neck. Most would assume this stance meaning that the being is giving you his full attention and concern. However, his real attention and concern were not towards you, but only for the control he so carefully maintains over you. 

You inhaled a deep breath, " I humbly request that perhaps one of the other proxies lead the room inspections today, master." you kept your voice from trembling and made sure to address him properly at the end. After you spoke, black tendrils slowly warped from the shadows behind the desk. You understood what was to come next. 

"Interesting." Slenderman began before he paused, feigning some pondering on your request. He already knew what he was going to say and so did you, " As I am sure you are well aware. These inspections are very important. They preserve the manor's laws and maintain order among the residents. " He paused again unlocking his fingers before propping them flatly on the surface of the oak structure. He then proceeded to slowly lift his being from the comforts of his throne and stand fully erect as the room allowed with its high ceilings. Shadows from every corner of the room stretched forth and growing larger as if they were also standing at attention, "I only trust you with this task and no one else. Are you suggesting that I can not trust you?" 

"NO! I didn't mean-" You interjected before clenching your jaw shut, sensing the sudden, abnormal temperature drop in the air. Like an old willow, Slenderman leaned down till his faceless gaze was leveled to yours. You averted eyes, gluing your vision to the floor as his shadow consumed yours. Your gloved fingers, which securely held onto your mask, tightened their grip for a semblance of reassurance. You knew this was a mistake when you eyed the slither of Inky black tendrils slowly but surely inch to entrap you. You felt yourself crack under the pressure and immediately sought release, " Forgive me. It was a momentary lack of judgment. If I could please have the list, I will conduct the inspections without fail. " You almost gasped out the words in panic as if you'd just resurfaced from the water after holding your breath for so long. You didn't even realize you weren't breathing until felt the pulsating strain behind your eyes. 

Seemingly pleased with your response, the supernatural being extended a single pale hand and rested it softly right on top of your head. The appendage was rather large compared to your head. If the thought appealed to him, he could effortlessly cage your skull betwixt his long bony fingers and crush it with little to no effort, "I'm delighted to hear that." he repeated smooth and fluid stroking motions through your bed of h/c locks. You froze, not daring to move as your master continued to pet you. Despite how cold and lifeless his spider-like talons were, it was pleasant to be touched like this.

"However, if I can't trust you to do your part in preserving the manor's laws and maintaining order, then there would be very little reason to keep you here by my side. You do not want that. To be alone, again." Those chilling words caused your heart to sink painfully deep into your chest. He was right, you didn't want to be alone, not like that, not again. You winced noticing one of the tendrils had slithered and coiled around your right ankle in a seemingly careful embrace, like a serpent seeking warmth. "My precious little one. You want to be by my side forever?" The moment he asked, that's when it started, the slow and agonizing squeezing. Even though your thick combat boots, the vice-like grip of the small coil grew so painfully tight. You thought the bone could snap at any moment. You clenched your jaw, desperately attempting to withhold a painful wail from escaping your throat. You knew it would leave you with terrible bruising and a limp for the rest of the day, " Y-yes, yes master." you managed to gasp out. The tendril's pressure suddenly loosened and released you. Your ankle swelled as all the blood swiftly rushed to your numb appendage. You quickly placed all of your weight on your good foot, balancing yourself as if you were on two. This will cause an inconvenience for the rest of your day. You look up from your feet to notice your master's hand had been removed and the entity returned seated to his throne as if nothing happened, "Very good. Here is the list." His talons shifted the small stack of papers forward, separating them from the rest of his current work. You move forward to retrieve the documentation, which was doable since your wounded ankle was still numb. You know very soon that will not be the case. With the list in one arm and your mask secured in the other, you exited the master's sanctum. You again carefully transverse through the twilight-zone hallway. When finally arrived at the end, you took the time to re-situate the mask back on your face where it belonged as well as your hood. No one in the manor besides Slenderman has seen your face and you intend to keep it that way. Knowing full well what the residents were capable of, it was better for you and them.

After navigating the disorienting path back to the grand foyer, you proceeded to examine the list whilst climbing the grand staircases up to the residential level. The first couple of steps made you wince and occasionally lose your sense of balance. One step, in particular, invited a sharp agonizing spike reverberating throughout your entire leg causing you to stumble forward. On instinct, Your gloved hands shot out to grab hold of the banister, dropping the list in the process. You brace your trembling form against the sturdy wood, hoping to regain some stability. Thankfully, to your knowledge, none of the residents noticed. Mainly since the foyer was now devoid of all residents and therefore, any unwanted attention toward you and your pathetic shambling. Normally a wound like this wouldn't impede you so much. You've experienced a cornucopia of pains, aches, and tortures in the past. You have the scars to prove it. However, this is not a normal wound or pain you're experiencing. Any hurt inflicted by that entity's touch is not normal. Like a supernatural venom, a small cut from him induces hours of near-crippling pain before subsiding. You learned that the hard way. 

Whole minutes have passed since your tumble. You haven't moved from your braced position against the banister. ' This is ridiculous...' An annoying thought crossed your mind of how silly you must appear right now. Like a child scared of falling down the stairs, you desperately clutched the rail to keep all weight off of your leg. You decide to readjust to a seated position on the step. You turned and twist your body awkwardly, moving with care for your problematic limb. A twinge of embarrassment crossed your thoughts, thinking how dumb you look like this. Finally, after some huffing and puffing and the occasional groan, you perched your tired posterior safely on the wood step. The rifle still securely strapped to your back made it difficult to lean backward and fully relax but you made do. You exhaled a long tiring breath through your mask as you craned your hooded head back, closing your eyes in the process. With no one around, it made you feel better about dropping your guard at least for a moment. Droplets of sweat gathered at the base of your h/c roots. They slowly careened down your neck, spine, and a few trailed off your mask. You hadn't realized how exhausted and sweaty you were until you sat down for the first time today. Though, this morning has not been easy, to say the least. From the long nightly patrol, through hunting down that getaway, to Masky's outburst, and now the stress of your ankle impeding your duties. Speaking of which, you quickly raised your wrist to your wrist, shuffling your long sleeve aside to check your watch. Before your mind could read the position of big and small hands on the clock, a low voice spoke breaking the long silence.

" It's only 9:23. Inspections won't be for a bit. "

Your head immediately shot up. Your e/c eyes widen and the large bulbous lens of your mask was transfixed intensely at the source. Stationed at the bottom of the staircase was a familiar stalking figure. Cladded in all black except for their signature blue mask, Eyeless Jack, the resident cannibal, and physician. He leaned against his right arm on the wooden rail nonchalantly while his hands were comfortably snuggled deep into his hoodie's pouch. The stalwart male allowed his broad shoulders to slump low and hunched forward, which took whole inches off from his towering height. He looked as if he was waiting for you to notice him. How did you not hear him? Over the years of service to the master, you honed and sharpened your senses, yet somehow you didn't sense him at all. Maybe the pain was getting to you and made you dull to your surroundings.

"Is your leg injured?" Jack questioned, tilting his head ever so slightly to the side in a curious manner. Your whole body grew tense under his focused stare. ' How long was he there? What has he seen? Everything?' You wrestled with each question, and with the heat brimming in your cheeks. 'Did he see me fall?!'

The sound of heavy boots climbing wooden steps made you snap out of your thoughts. Jack has begun his ascension, but not too quickly. Despite being the appointed medic at the manor, The eyeless cannibal was not the type to rush to a resident's side like most medical personnel. If the situation allowed it, he tends to move at his own pace. Much like now, Jack sashays up the steps like a curious but lazy cat, each step is slow and methodical. His examining gaze never wavers from your form. Right now the overwhelming, evasive instinct to make yourself scarce kicked in. You frantically pushed yourself off the step you were perched on. Your gloved fingers quickly gripped the staircase rail, utilizing the sturdy wooden material for support. With what's left of your energy, you attempted to lift yourself to feet. You know from experience that there was a discrete closet just around the corner in the resident corridor. if you get there fast enough you could hide from Eyeless Jack. You gaze upward, tracking how many steps you had left till you've reached the top. Without too much resistance, you were able to climb two steps before having to stop, 'Just eight more.' you thought gleefully, before realizing how unrealistic your plan is.

The sound of your pounding heart was matched only by Jack's ascending footfalls. He was closing in and soon. Before you could climb the next step, a sharp and undeniable pain shot through your wounded ankle, causing you to lose balance once again. You choked out an involuntary gasp as you fell. You catch yourself by the rail and step, saving you from an unpleasant tumble down the staircase. 

"Stop moving. You're just making it worse. Just sit back down." Jack's words were cold, stern, and they hinted at his annoyance. You froze from his commanding tone. You have one hand still firmly holding the rail, while the other braced yourself against the steps. You inhaled a sharp breath kept your gaze low as the sound of climbing boots finally reached their destination. Jack was now standing on steps you were pitifully perched on. His hands still tucked away and his towering form hunched over you like a bored crow. He casts a long shadow, nearly covering your petite figure in the shade.

What will happen now? you were unsure of the result of this encounter. You wondered if you should make another attempt at scurrying away. You wonder if he would forcefully try to stop you. He easily could if he thought it was necessary. You also wondered if this was the same train of thought his victims would experience. Did they experience a similar feeling of intimidation and helplessness from him? You knew that there is a big difference between you and Jack, besides the physically obvious ones. You ended the chase quickly and executed your victims efficiently, while he tended to take his time and make the kill last as long as possible. The air grew very quiet with the lack of word exchanges coming from neither of you. 

In your mind, you figured Jack would have questioned you about your apparent staircase stumble or just began tending to your wound by now. Instead, the young male was seemingly in deep thought just like you were, ' Maybe I could just leave, again?' it was easier said than done, but it seems like Jack is preoccupied with his own ponderance. What he was thinking was beyond you.

In Jack's mind, he thought how rare it was for him to see the manor's notorious guard dog. When he came up from the basement, he thought himself lucky to spot you climbing the staircase up to the residential corridor. Not only that but to witness your stumbling and seemingly in pain was an even rarer sight. Not once since he started his practice here did you visit his clinic, except for the occasional inspection. He figured you either were very careful or had means to tend to your own injuries when necessary. At that moment when your figure shambled against the wood staircase, Jack made himself silent and still. He intended not to alert you of his presence. Like a wounded deer, he didn't want to spook you and cause you to disappear from his sight. Not unlike the many other times when you vanished without a trace. He didn't know what to say to you or if there was any need to. 

He decided to push his thoughts to the side and tend to the matter at hand. You were obviously hurt and needed assistance. unlike the others, he didn't hate or resented you for what you do. Just like him, you are doing your job that is all. Jack re-focused his attention to the injured resident struggling on the staircase. Well, he would have if there was the said resident on the staircase, but no one was there anymore.

'What the fuck?!' He frantically thought as his head swiveled around like an owl surveying all 360 degrees around him. the guard dog was were nowhere to be found, again!


End file.
